Crash and Burn
by Dani-Ellie03
Summary: Killian darted his somewhat panicked gaze to the infant in his arms and then back to his suddenly ill sister. After the briefest of moments, he set his shoulders in determination. He hadn't anticipated that his quiet evening babysitting with Emma would turn into babysitting the lad while also caring for a sick Emma but he was certainly able and willing to roll with the punches.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** The world totally needs more multi-chapter Captain Swan/Charming Family comfort and sweet silliness, yes? I though so, too, so here we be. :) As per usual, please keep a toothbrush handy. Title comes from the song by Savage Garden, mostly because I'm having something of a late-90s/early-00s music renaissance, which has rekindled my love for Savage Garden. Feedback makes me so very happy! Enjoy. :)

* * *

She could feel it coming on, a dull ache in her left temple. Emma Swan sighed as she pressed her index finger into her temple and gave it a quick massage. Tonight was not the night for a headache.

Tonight was the night her parents were _finally_ going out for their anniversary dinner. They'd spent their actual anniversary separated by the greatest of distances: Snow in Storybrooke and David with everyone else in the Underworld. Considering they'd only been in the Underworld at all because they'd followed Emma down there as she mounted Killian's rescue mission, she felt like the least she could do was offer to watch the little squirt for them while they went out to have some married people time.

And so, after much back and forth and Emma threatening to make the reservations for them if they didn't do it themselves, for crying out loud, out Snow and David were finally going for a belated anniversary dinner.

 _I'll be damned if I'm going to let something like a tiny headache derail my family's plans for the evening_ , she thought as she finished up her swift head massage.

"Is everything all right?" Snow asked, startling Emma out of her reverie.

"Yeah," she replied with a smile although her mom's voice had kind of torn through her head. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"You sighed." Now Snow was looking at her with what Emma called her Worried Mom expression: a slight concerned frown and a discerning gaze that Emma swore could pick up the faintest of injuries or signs of illness. "And you were massaging your temple and now you're kind of squinting."

Oh, sweet Jesus. "I'm just getting a headache." Emma even shrugged to indicate just how not a big deal her brewing headache was.

It didn't work.

Snow instantly handed little Neal to David and crossed the room in the blink of an eye. She managed to place the back of her hand on her grown-up baby's forehead to feel for a fever before Emma's aching brain caught up enough for her mother's actions to register.

A mildly embarrassed Emma ducked out of her mother's reach. "Mom! It's just a headache! I don't have a fever."

Snow clucked her tongue in disapproval. "We should cancel tonight."

"Why do you need to cancel tonight?"

"If you're not feeling well–"

"I feel fine! It's just a headache!" Emma glanced at her father. "Will you please tell her that I'm fine?"

David's slightly panicked eyes darted from his daughter to his wife and back again. He suddenly had to choose between going against his wife or going against his daughter, and neither option was pretty. "I'm sure she's fine, Snow, but we also don't mind having to reschedule, Emma."

Snow smiled at Emma in triumph. Emma rolled her eyes at her father. How very diplomatic of him. "You don't have to reschedule. I don't know if you know but they invented this amazing stuff called Advil. You just swallow two of them and in a few minutes, bam, no more headache."

Snow exchanged an amused glance with David. "You certainly are your father's daughter," she said to Emma, not even bothering to hide her smirk. "You both get rather sarcastic when you don't feel well."

An exasperated Emma pursed her lips, idly wishing she could bang her aching head against the brick wall behind her. Snow gave her daughter a gentle smile. "I'm sorry, baby, I was just teasing," she said softly as she reached her palm up to briefly cup her daughter's cheek. Emma closed her eyes against the sudden rush of comfort that came from her mother's touch.

All right, her mom getting all overly worried parent on her may have been kind of annoying but Emma couldn't deny that she'd wanted this her entire life. All those years of comforting herself during an illness had left her with a keen desire for a mom to take care of her and offer her comfort when she didn't feel well. And now she had a mom who would do just that and some little part of her swore that Snow's touch was magic.

Some little part of her swore that her mother's touch made the brewing headache recede just a tad.

When she opened her eyes, she saw her mom smiling gently at her. "If you won't let me cancel dinner to stay home and take care of you, will you at least let me get the Advil for you?"

Emma could hear the faint worry lingering in her mother's tone and frankly, the thought of someone else bringing her the medicine and the water with which to wash it down was ridiculously comforting. "Yeah, I suppose I can allow that," she said softly, smiling back at her mom.

Snow brushed her thumb over Emma's cheek a final time before letting go and ducking into the bathroom to grab her daughter's medicine. David, who had his baby boy nestled contently in his arms, took that as his cue to approach his little girl. "I don't want to sound like yet another overprotective parent but–"

"Too late," Emma sighed, though she couldn't quite hide her touched smile.

David smiled back at her. "All I'm saying is we could shift our reservations to another night if you think you're not up for this tonight."

"I appreciate it, honestly I do, but you're both overreacting. I'm not on my deathbed; I have a headache." Emma flicked her gaze from her father to her mother as Snow emerged from the bathroom, Advil and glass of water in hand. "One which will be crying uncle in under an hour, thanks to Mom."

Snow smiled as she handed the proffered items over to her daughter. Emma downed the pills and chased them with the water. "See? I feel better already."

Her parents chuckled. "All right, if you're sure," David said.

"I'm sure. Killian's coming over with dinner in a little bit so I'll have some backup, too."

"Oh, so that's it," Snow teased. "You want to kick us out so you and Killian can have some _alone_ _time_."

David pursed his lips and shot his wife a mild glare. Although he'd certainly warmed up to Killian, Emma was still his little girl and there were things that he as a father just did not need to think about.

Emma felt heat rushing to her cheeks. "No, that's not it," she said, flustered.

"Hopefully your headache goes away," Snow murmured conspiratorially. "Having a headache during _alone time_ sure dampens the mood."

"Mom!" Emma cried at the same time as David exclaimed, "Snow!"

"Out, the both of you!" Emma huffed, lifting her baby brother from her father's arms.

Snow was practically giggling as she headed for the door. She and David shrugged on their coats and turned to give their babies one last look goodbye. "We'll be back in a couple of hours," David promised, giving Emma a nod and wiggling his fingers in a goodbye wave to Neal.

"We'll call first," Snow said, a smirk on her lips. "Just in case. Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

"Mom!"

They were out the door before Emma could protest any further, Snow's soft giggles fading with the click of the doorknob.

A furious blush rose on Emma's cheeks as she glanced down at her baby brother and released a sigh. "Our parents are impossible, squirt."

A perfectly content little Neal blew a raspberry. "I'll take that to mean you agree with me," Emma said, smiling.

* * *

A smiling Killian Jones climbed the steps to his Swan's parents' apartment, takeout dinner from Granny's firmly in hand. He paused just outside the door and listened carefully for any and all sounds the young royal might have been making. Hearing nothing, he rapped on the door with his hook as loudly as he dared. Emma would more than likely have his head if the knock woke the baby.

He needn't have worried. When Emma pulled the door open, a wide awake little Neal was nestled in her arms. "Look, squirt, Killian's here!" she said by way of a greeting.

The baby gurgled happily.

A touched Killian briefly looked up and caught Emma's smiling eye before returning his attention to the little lad. "Hello, there, lad. It's nice to see you, too." He stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind him. "It's wonderful to see you as well, love," he said, punctuating his greeting with a soft kiss on her cheek.

"Mmm." Her eyes fluttered closed against the kiss, making Killian's heart flutter in his chest. Even after all they'd been through, a simple peck on the cheek was enough to quicken both their hearts. "It's great to see you, too," Emma said when he pulled away, her voice somewhat breathless.

Killian smiled as Emma led him to the kitchen table, where he set down the takeout bag. She'd already set the table for dinner, two place settings across from each other. "Here's hoping tonight will be a bit calmer than the last time we babysat," she said as she tucked little Neal into his bassinet for the time being.

He let out a chuckle at the memory. The time she was speaking of saw the two of them trying to settle an ill and very cranky young royal. His ear infection had made him so miserable that Emma had ended up calling Killian in as reinforcement. "He seems much more content tonight than he did that night, that's for sure."

Emma's smile that time was weary, leading Killian's own to fade slightly in concern. "Are you all right, love?"

"Fine," she replied, shoring up her smile.

Killian nodded but he didn't quite believe her. She looked a little pale and her eyes were somewhat glassy. Still, he let it go, figuring that if she truly felt poorly, she'd let him know.

When he opened the takeout bag, the aroma of the fried potatoes and onions wafted into the air. Normally Emma inhaled deeply – she loved the smell of French fries, she'd said – but tonight she turned somewhat green around the gills.

That certainly didn't bode well. With a watchful eye on his Swan, Killian set his food and Emma's out as she poured them both drinks from the cold box. Then as one, they sat down to eat.

He'd gotten Emma's favorite – grilled cheese with onion rings – so it surprised him when she only picked at her meal. "Is everything all right with the food, love?" he asked.

"It's perfectly fine, I just … guess I don't have much of an appetite tonight."

That caused him to raise his eyebrows. He'd never known Emma Swan to turn down food. "Are you sure you feel all right?"

"I do have a little headache," she shrugged.

Headache, nausea. A look at her proved she was squinting so the light in the room must have been bothering her. Suddenly he was on high alert. "How little is little?"

Milah used to get excruciating headaches when she ate certain foods, headaches that would send her running below decks away from the smell of the salt air and the bright vastness of the open ocean. Killian had learned long ago to recognize the signs of one of her impending headaches and right now, he saw those signs in his Swan.

"It's kinda pounding, to be honest. Right here." She pointed to her left temple. "I took some medicine, though, so I should be fine once it kicks in."

Killian didn't know much about the medicine in this world or how it worked but he highly doubted whatever she took would touch what was brewing. He lowered his voice when he next spoke, remembering how sensitive Milah would become to sounds during one of these attacks. "Did it help at all?"

"Not yet. It actually feels like it's gotten worse."

"Has the medicine had the time to work?"

She frowned up at the clock. "Actually, yeah." She looked up at him, her eyes widening in sudden realization as her aching brain finally processed her host of symptoms as a whole. "Oh, shit."

Despite his mounting concern for Emma, he swallowed a chuckle. Ever eloquent, his Swan. "Aye. Come, love. You need a dark, quiet room."

Quiet, apparently, was not in the cards. All of a sudden, little Neal started to cry. A moan escaped Emma's lips as she pressed her hands to the side of her head. Her brother's whimpers were tearing through her headache.

Though Killian's first instinct was to run to Emma, he knew gentle comfort wasn't what she needed in the immediate sense. Instead slipped his hook from its brace and darted to the bassinet to pick up the fussy infant. "Hush, lad," he murmured softly to the baby as he gently bounced him in his arms. "Hush now."

Little Neal slowly quieted down, and Emma slowly relaxed in response. When Neal was finally calm, Emma lifted her head. Killian could tell just from the pained expression on her face that the baby's fussing had done her in. Her headache had exploded.

She squinted first at her baby brother and then up at Killian. "This evening just got a whole lot more complicated, didn't it?"

"It has indeed," Killian said gently as he darted his somewhat panicked gaze to the infant in his arms and then back to his suddenly ill sister. After the briefest of moments, he set his shoulders in determination. He hadn't anticipated that his quiet evening babysitting with Emma would turn into babysitting the lad while also caring for a sick Emma but he was certainly able and willing to roll with the punches. "Not to worry, though. I didn't get to be an ever resourceful pirate captain without learning how to handle the unexpected."

He waggled his eyebrows at her, hoping to make her smile.

It worked. "I'm holding you to that, captain," she said, a teasing smirk curling on her lips despite her pounding headache. "After all, you've had how many centuries to practice?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Once again, y'all are the best. Thanks for the reviews and follows and favorites! Here be the next part; Stubborn Emma ahoy! :)

* * *

Killian Jones had lived a good couple of centuries and in all those years, he'd never met another woman as obstinate as Emma Swan. After all, only Emma could march into the Underworld and attempt to retrieve her lost love from the clutches of the God of the Dead himself, and Killian could never thank her enough for doing so.

Though he usually found his Swan's feisty stubbornness rather endearing, tonight he had to admit to wishing she weren't quite so bullheaded. It was, after all, more than a little difficult to properly care for someone who fought him on each and every instruction he tried to give her.

Though it was clear that her headache had reached the point of needing to be soothed with rest and a dark, quiet room, she would not hear of heading up to the loft. She'd tried to settle on the couch in the living room instead but they'd been unable to make the open space of the apartment dark enough to calm the pounding in her head.

Killian had finally suggested her parents' room. After she got herself situated on their bed, he transferred baby Neal into her arms, leaving him free to draw the shades down over the windows to block out as much ambient light as possible.

"Bloody hell," he murmured when he glanced over at her and saw that her face was still screwed up in pain. Not for the first time, he cursed not being on the _Jolly_. Milah had always settled on a bunk in the crews' quarters during one of her attacks; the little cabin would be pitch-black without a lantern lighting it.

He drew the curtain across the doorway, which helped block at least some of the light from the apartment proper. "That's the best I think we're going to get, love," he said, keeping his volume just above a whisper out of deference to her headache.

"That's much better," she replied, shooting him as large of a grateful smile as she could muster. "Thank you."

Killian smiled back and crossed the room to sit with her. He once again took custody of her brother, fully expecting her to take the opportunity to lie down, close her eyes, and try to sleep off the headache.

Of course, she didn't. She simply propped the pillows against the headboard, leaned back into them, and let out a soft sigh. "And now we wait."

"It would help if you tried to sleep, love."

"With the way this thing is pounding, I don't think sleep is an option."

Except she hadn't allowed herself an attempt. _So bloody obstinate,_ Killian thought as he heaved a mildly exasperated sigh.

The two of them fell into a comfortable silence that was only broken by the little lad's occasional soft babbles. It amazed Killian how the baby seemed to recognize his sister's need for quiet because normally the young royal babbled at a louder volume.

"I still think you should call your parents, Emma," Killian said, softly breaking the silence. That had been his first suggestion upon realizing what was happening to her, one which she'd immediately and vehemently fought him on. "They're going to be upset when they come home and find you in this state."

Emma wrinkled her nose but whether that was due to the throbbing in her head or Killian's suggestion, he couldn't be sure. "They'll just come rushing home to hover over me, which is completely unnecessary. They deserve to have an anniversary dinner, Killian. They deserve to take a couple hours off and just be married people and not have to worry about a sick kid."

"You're their daughter, love. They're always going to worry about you."

"Yeah, well, my point still stands. I'll call them in a little while but not right now. I don't want to ruin their dinner."

Killian sighed again but let the thread drop. It wasn't worth arguing with her.

He glanced down at little Neal to make sure the baby was still content. He was, his gaze locked on Killian's earring. The former pirate grinned; the way it dangled as he moved must have fascinated the young lad.

After watching the baby squirm in his arms for a moment, Killian turned a concerned gaze back on Emma. Her eyes were squeezed closed in an effort to block out the rest of the light but she was too tense to even attempt to fall asleep.

Killian had hated this part of the illness with Milah and he still hated it with Emma. He felt so helpless watching her suffer but he sadly knew from experience that the only thing to be done now was wait it out.

Wait, not quite. There _was_ something he could do, if she would allow it. "Since you refuse to lie down," he said, making Emma squint over at him, "will you hold your brother a minute? I want to get you something."

A curious frown tugged at her lips but for the first time since her headache hit, she didn't offer a single word of question or complaint. She simply held her arms out for the baby transfer.

Killian hid a smirk and made a mental note. It seemed that one of the only ways to get Emma Swan to stop being her typical inordinately stubborn self for five seconds, especially when she didn't feel well, was to appeal to her curiosity.

Once he settled the little lad in his sister's arms, he gently brushed his fingers across Emma's aching forehead. She closed her eyes against the tender comfort. "I'll be right back, love."

"Okay."

He could hear the pain in her voice, which made him all the more resolved to help her. He slipped from her parents' bedroom and headed for the bathroom. A quick search of the cabinets revealed the family's collection of washcloths. He carried one over to the sink, where he ran the tap and waited until the water pouring from it turned hot.

He held the washcloth under the faucet, soaking it completely. Then he wrung it out, turned the knob to staunch the flow of water, and returned to the bedroom.

Emma's questioning eyes followed his movements as he briefly set the cloth down on the dresser, folded it in fourths, and picked it back up. Then he approached Emma and gently lay the washcloth on her forehead.

"Ohh," she sighed, her eyes closing as she shifted her brother in her arms and reached a hand up to hold the cloth in place herself. "That feels _wonderful_."

"I thought it might," Killian said softly as he slipped little Neal out of her grip. "If the heat didn't work, I was going to try cold."

"Mmm."

He once again settled down on the bed beside her. She slumped further down on the pillows and removed her hand from the compress, allowing gravity to hold it in place for her. Just when he thought she was finally starting to doze off, Emma forced her eyes open and squinted over at Killian. "How the hell do you know how to treat migraines?"

"Migraines, like magic, apparently transcend realms. Milah used to get terrible headaches like the one you have now when she ate certain kinds of fish. We didn't have a name for her headaches, of course, but I did learn what helped ease the pain for her until the headache went away for good. A hot compress always worked better for her than cold, which is why I tried it first."

"Hot water on the open ocean can't be easy to come by."

"Aye, it's not. I would hold a wet rag above a lantern until the heat from the flame warmed it."

She looked up at him with such an expression of pure adoration that his heart skipped a beat. "I'm sorry she got them. They suck ass."

As always, her eloquence made him swallow a chuckle. "That they do, love. And you know what else helped her until the headache went away?"

"What's that?"

He gave her a pointed look. "Going to sleep."

Had she been able to roll her eyes without making her headache worse, she would have. "Killian, I can't just go to sleep and leave you to watch my brother all by yourself. That's not fair to you."

"And sitting there in excruciating pain is fair to you?" Killian asked gently. "I appreciate your concern, Emma, but the lad and I will be fine for the next little while. If you're able to sleep through the worst of your headache, you should do so."

Stubborn as the day was long, Emma gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head. Killian heaved another exasperated sigh.

They continued to talk softly, though Killian was certain she was only conversing to keep herself awake. Once both sides of the compress had cooled to room temperature, he removed it from her forehead and refreshed it for her at the kitchen sink.

As he handed the compress back to her, he saw her glancing at the clock on the bedside table. A soft whimper escaped her lips as she slumped back against the pillows.

"Time is crawling for you, isn't it?" he asked as he reclaimed his position next to her. He remembered Milah complaining of the same thing in the midst of one of these attacks.

"Yeah," she sighed.

"You know what would help with that?"

She shot him a weary look. "I'm not going to sleep."

Poor Emma ended up not having a choice. Fighting the headache all evening had exhausted her and the warmth from the compress on her forehead was making her drowsy. Before long, her eyes drifted closed.

Killian held his breath, afraid to move. If anything startled her back to attentiveness now, she wouldn't let herself get this close to sleep again.

Just when Killian thought she might be fully asleep, baby Neal made a happy gurgling sound in his arms. The soft noise made Emma flinch, her eyes fluttering open. Thankfully, they closed again a mere second later. "Killian?" she asked, her soft tone and the slight slurring of her consonants making it clear that she was balancing on the very edge of consciousness.

"Yes, love?"

"If I fall asleep," she continued, which made Killian smirk; only Emma Swan would add an 'if' to that statement while three-quarters asleep, "wake me up after a little while, okay?"

"Of course."

"Thanks. Don't want to wake up at oh-dark-hundred ready to start the day."

"I don't want that, either, love," he murmured, smiling down at her.

"You wake up at oh-dark-hundred every day."

He swallowed a chuckle. His stubborn Swan was trying so very hard to keep herself awake. Rather than continue to play her little game, he let the subject drop.

After giving her a few moments to drift off, he carefully shifted position on the bed to make himself a little more comfortable. His movement must not have been careful enough. Emma wrinkled her nose in her almost-sleep and mumbled something Killian highly doubted she would have said if she were fully conscious: "Don't go."

A touched smile pulled at his lips. Apparently a walls-down and sick Emma Swan wasn't as much of a lone wolf as she pretended to be. "I'm not going anywhere," he promised her in a whisper.

It only took another moment or two for her to finally tumble into unconsciousness. When her breathing evened out, a smiling Killian looked down at little Neal and murmured conspiratorially, "Your sister is impossible."

The baby happily blew a raspberry, making Killian stifle a snicker.

A framed picture of Emma and her parents set out on the nightstand caught Killian's eye. As he looked it over, Emma's decision to not phone her parents weighed heavily on his mind. He understood Emma's point that the prince and princess deserved a worry-free couple of hours. At the same time, he also didn't want to imagine the surprise and hurt feelings her unsuspecting parents would face once they found out that their daughter hadn't wanted to bother them while she suffered through one of the worst pains imaginable.

Killian glanced over at Emma, who was finally sleeping peacefully despite her pounding headache. In an instant, he made up his mind. "Apologies, love," he murmured to her before shifting off the bed, "but I have to do this."

He didn't intend to be gone long, just long enough to make a single phone call. He slipped from the room, set a squirming little prince down in his bassinet, and dug his talking phone from his jacket pocket. After taking a deep breath, he pressed the David button.

The prince answered after two rings. Killian gave him a quick rundown of what was transpiring with Emma. "She wanted you to have this time together and didn't want you rushing through your dinner on her account," he explained when David questioned why she hadn't called them herself. "She's sleeping now so there's no need for you to come home right away. I just didn't want you to return and find her ill."

"Thank you for letting us know, Killian," David said sincerely. "Don't worry; we won't let on that you gave us the heads-up."

Killian let out a breath of relief. At least that was one argument he wouldn't be having later.

"Out of deference to her wishes, we won't rush through our meal but our daughter's sick and we're not going to linger over it, either," David continued. "I know you've got everything under control right now so … thanks for taking such good care of our babies."

A touched Killian smiled. "You're very welcome, mate."


	3. Chapter 3

Killian returned to the bedroom after his conversation with David. He'd promised Emma he wasn't going anywhere and he intended to honor that promise. "All right, lad," he murmured to the infant nestled in his arms as he eased back down on the bed beside Emma, who he was glad to note was still sleeping peacefully. "How shall we pass the time while your sister has her rest?"

In the end, Killian kept the baby calm and quiet the only way he knew how: by softly weaving him tales of the sea. Though little Neal hadn't the faintest idea what Killian was talking about, the simple act of hearing a tender voice kept him content. Thank the heavens, then, that the pirate had a good couple of centuries' worth of stories in his arsenal.

He told little Neal countless stories for the next forty-five minutes. Thankfully Emma had left a glass of water on the bedside table because the constant talking was making him parched.

Eventually the young royal began to squirm and fuss in Killian's arms. "Oh no," he murmured to the infant. "What's the matter, lad?"

The baby's fussing blossomed into whimpering, which in turn made Emma shift uncomfortably in her sleep. _Not good_ , Killian thought. _Not good at all._

"It's all right," he said, hoping to soothe both the baby and his sleeping sister. Then, after sparing a glance at Emma to make sure the baby hadn't woken her fully, Killian slipped off the bed and carried little Neal out of the bedroom so his cries wouldn't disturb his sister.

"What is it, lad?" Killian asked. He obviously didn't expect an answer but he was hoping his voice would comfort him a bit. A quick check of Neal's diaper like Emma had taught him proved it didn't need to be changed. _What could possibly be bothering the lad so?_ he wondered as he paced the living area in an effort to soothe him.

And as he caught the wall clock out of the corner of his eye, it hit him. When he'd watched the young prince with Emma previously, she'd given him a bottle shortly after finishing her own dinner. "Are you hungry? Is that why you're fussing?"

He stepped over to the cold box and sure enough, there was a feeding schedule written in Snow's precise hand hung up on the front of it. Little Neal was indeed due for a bottle. With a smile down at the poor hungry lad, Killian opened the cold box.

A couple of filled bottles were set out on the top shelf. He grasped one but just before sitting down to feed the baby, he paused. Hadn't Emma heated it up somehow when she'd fed him before?

Poor little Neal's whimpers had grown into full-blown cries. "I know, lad, I know," Killian murmured as he pulled a pot from the cabinet and set it in the sink to fill with water. He didn't know how else to heat the bottle other than in a pot on the stove top. "I know you're hungry but bear with me. Please don't wake your sister."

"His sister's already awake," a soft voice mumbled from behind them.

Killian spun around to find Emma leaning against the doorjamb, her curls cascading over her shoulders and ending in endearing tangles. Unfortunately she was also squinting in the ambient light of the room. "Love, you should be in bed," he said as she stepped forward, took the bottle from his hand, and set it in some kind of contraption on the counter. Then she turned off the kitchen faucet and dumped the water down the drain. "I hope he didn't wake you."

"He didn't." She set the pot upside down beside the sink to dry. "My unconscious self became aware of the pounding in my head."

 _That doesn't sound good_ , Killian thought as he shot her a concerned frown. Milah's headaches had never woken her once she'd finally drifted to sleep. "Do you feel any better?"

"A little."

Still an open book, his Swan was, so Killian knew she was telling a white lie. Hell, her throbbing headache was written all over her face. She was still squinting in an effort to block out as much light as she could and there was a slight pallor to her skin.

Before he could say anything, she removed the bottle from the contraption and squeezed a drop of milk onto her wrist. "Bottle's warmed up," she said, holding her arms out to take her brother.

Killian studiously ignored her outstretched arms and plucked the bottle from her hand. "Thank you for warming the bottle, love, but I can feed him. You are going back to bed."

Clearly Emma Swan did not take well to being told what to do. If looks could kill, he'd be dead about ten times over. Even still, the glare she gave him was a far cry from her usual expression of annoyance. Apparently it was difficult to give someone a proper withering scowl when one could barely hold one's eyes open.

Despite his concern for his Swan, Killian swallowed a chuckle. If this was the way she wanted to play it, he could certainly work with it. "Suit yourself," he said, giving a dismissive shrug, "but your brother and I are going back to your parents' room." He stuck the nipple of the bottle into little Neal's mouth and watched as the baby began hungrily sucking down the contents. "Aren't we, little lad?"

True to his word, he carried the hungry infant back through the curtain and into the bedroom. A moment later, he heard Emma's tired footsteps shuffling after them. He hid a smile; did he know his Swan or what?

Just as Killian was easing down on the mattress to make himself comforting during the feeding session, Emma paused in her tracks just inside the doorway. " _Oh_ no," she muttered, her voice somewhat strangled. Her face had turned startlingly ashen.

She was out of the room before Killian could even begin to ask what was wrong. He figured out what was happening a split second before the sounds of her retching in the bathroom reached his ears.

He winced in sympathy for his poor Swan. Then he stood up and carried little Neal out of the room so he could tend to the baby's sick sister.

Killian found her seated on the floor of the bathroom, her face over the toilet bowl. She was breathing heavily and swallowing hard. The sight of her clear suffering made Killian's heart ache in his chest. "You all right, love?" he asked softly, gently.

She moaned, still hugging the toilet. "Feed Neal. I'm fine."

Except she clearly wasn't. Her stomach rebelled yet again and the rest of what little she'd managed to eat at dinner made a second appearance. She whimpered, a sound which caused Killian almost physical pain.

He needed to comfort her but he also needed to feed the baby. After just a moment of waffling, Killian slipped the bottle from the baby's mouth and eased down on the floor beside Emma, resting his back against the tub.

Despite the interruption of his dinner, little Neal remained quiet. It was almost as if he could sense that his big sister needed Killian's attention a touch more than he did at the moment. Killian set the bottle down and used his now free hand to rub soft circles on his poor Swan's back.

Though Emma's stomach seemed to have settled, she didn't move. Only when her breathing returned to normal did she reach a weak hand up to flush the toilet. Then she wearily sat back against the tub with her pirate and her baby brother. "I'm sorry," she said after a moment.

"Why are you–" And then it hit him: she was embarrassed for having vomited in front of him.

Oh, his poor Swan. "Emma, I captained a ship's crew for a good couple of centuries. Not every sailor finds his sea legs right away, especially during the countless storms we'd weathered. You're certainly not the first person I've witnessed losing his or her dinner."

That got her to give him a little, grateful smile.

"Come, love," he said as he softly brushed his thumb over her cheek. "Back to bed with you."

Ever obstinate, she shook her head as much as she dared. "Let me brush my teeth first. Give Neal the rest of his bottle. I'll meet you back there in a minute."

Since that was far less argument than Killian was anticipating, he nodded his agreement. He pushed himself to his feet and, taking care not to jostle the baby, helped Emma stand. She grasped the bottle on her way up and handed it over once she was standing under her own power.

"We'll be waiting for you," Killian promised as he once again stuck the nipple of the bottle into Neal's little mouth. The clearly grateful lad began to drink.

Upon receiving another small smile from his Swan, Killian slipped out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom.

Emma returned moments after he settled on the bed, his back against the headboard and his legs outstretched in front of him. She plopped down beside him and slumped back into her pile of pillows. Her eyes slid closed but she was not at all relaxed.

"Do you want me to try to talk you back to sleep?" Killian asked softly. He glanced down at the little lad in his arms and smiled before returning his attention to Emma. "My stories kept your brother calm through almost your entire nap."

A tiny smile pulled at her lips at the thought of her pirate and her baby brother bonding over stories. "I don't know if more sleep is really in the cards. It just feels better with my eyes closed. But sure, have at it, if you want."

One of these days, she would understand the gauntlet she threw down when she said things like that, a gauntlet Killian adored picking up. If Emma didn't think he could talk her to sleep, he'd just have to tell her the most boring, rambling story he could come up with. She'd be asleep in minutes.

"One overcast evening, I accidentally sailed us off course–"

The corners of her mouth twitched up into a smirk. "The great Captain Hook got lost?"

"There might have been copious amounts of rum involved in addition to the cloud cover, now hush."

She chuckled.

He continued the story, describing in excruciating detail the depths of the inky ocean, the sky dark as pitch, and the soft waves gently rocking the _Jolly_ as he tried to regain heading. Every minute or so, he lowered his voice and every minute or so, her breathing became more and more regular in response.

Just when she was about to tumble fully into slumber, the front door of the apartment creaked open and then clicked closed. The sounds were quiet as could be but they were different enough and amplified enough by Emma's headache that she started awake.

Voices barely above a whisper filtered through the curtain, voices both Emma and Killian would know anywhere.

Emma, who had clearly been hoping to have beaten her migraine into submission before her parents arrived home from dinner lest they smother her with overprotective parent attention, heaved a lovingly exasperated sigh. "And so it begins."


	4. Chapter 4

Snow White's baby girl was sick, and all she wanted was to be with her. To comfort her, to take care of her. To help her feel better in any way she could.

From the moment Charming had ended his conversation with Killian, the only thing either Snow or Charming could think about was getting back home to their sick little girl. "We shouldn't have left her," Snow had said when Charming told her of Emma's symptoms. "I knew she was sicker than she was letting on. We should have canceled tonight."

"We tried, Snow," Charming had reminded her. "She wouldn't hear of it."

"Stubborn girl," Snow had muttered, causing Charming to smile.

"That she is. Takes after someone else I know."

Like Charming had promised Killian, they didn't rush through their meal, even though they both wanted nothing more than to go home and check on their daughter. They'd both let out a sigh of relief when their server had come by with the check.

At long last, Snow and Charming were now entering a seemingly empty apartment. Killian had told them that Emma was asleep and he and Neal were clearly sitting with her while she rested.

"Upstairs?" Charming asked.

"I think so," Snow answered. They both kept their voices quiet in an effort to spare their little girl any further head pain.

Charming started up the steep metal staircase first. Snow had only climbed the first two steps when soft baby babbles reached her ear. The sounds were coming not from the loft above them but from the bedroom she shared with Charming and, for the time being, little Neal. She tapped Charming's shoulder and, when he looked over his shoulder at her, pointed towards the drawn curtain across their bedroom doorway.

He smiled and gave a nod of understanding. Then, as one, mother and father turned on the stairs and headed into their bedroom instead.

The room was mostly dark. From what Snow could see in the light filtering into the room through the curtains, Killian Jones was seated with his back against her headboard, his legs outstretched and little Neal nestled in his arms. Neal, who was polishing off the remainder of a bottle, seemed perfectly content in the pirate's gentle grip. Emma lay curled up facing her pirate and baby brother. Her eyes were indeed closed but she'd clearly awakened at some point between Killian's phone call and now. Her face was pinched from her head pain and her posture was too tense for sleep.

Snow's heart sank in her chest at the sight of her little girl in such obvious pain. Beside her, Charming drew in a breath, one which meant his own half of her heart was aching as much as hers was.

Killian exchanged a silent greeting with Snow and Charming as the two of them stepped further into the room. Snow gave him a grateful smile in return. He'd done a damn good job holding down the fort in their absence.

Again as one, mother and father approached their sick little girl. Charming eased down on the far side of the mattress by Emma's knees. Snow made herself comfortable at the foot of the bed by Killian's feet. Emma stirred at the shifting of the mattress but didn't drag her eyes open until Snow ghosted the tip of her thumb across her cheek.

Despite her pounding headache, Emma gave her mom as big a smile as she could muster. "Hey, Mom." She turned onto her back and reached for her father's hand. Charming gripped it and gave her a gentle smile. "Hi, Dad."

"Hey, kiddo," Charming murmured.

"Hi, baby," Snow replied in a whisper. "How are you feeling?"

"Like my brain is trying to claw its way out of my skull."

Snow exchanged a troubled glance with Charming. Such a level of honesty from their little girl only proved how absolutely terrible she must have been feeling. Nine and a half times out of ten, Emma answered an inquiry into her well-being with a variant of "fine," even if she really wasn't.

"Did the Advil help at all?" Charming asked.

"Didn't even touch it."

Snow once again looked up at Charming, silently telling him that their little girl was due for a round of different medicine. She'd taken the Advil a good three hours ago; more than enough time had passed for her to try something else.

Charming nodded at her, then squeezed Emma's hand before releasing it. He patted her knee, stood, and crept out of the room to retrieve his daughter's medicine.

Emma watched her father leave the room through squinted eyes. Snow ran her thumb over Emma's cheek to recapture her attention. "Any other symptoms aside from the headache and what I'm gathering is light sensitivity?"

"I threw up," Emma admitted, sounding impossibly young. Snow's heart leaped at the whimper in her tone and wanted nothing more than to pull her little girl into a tight hug and never let her go. "It's definitely a migraine. Unfortunately, it won't truly go away until I go to bed for the night. They never do."

Now Snow wondered how many times her sweet baby girl had powered through her migraines until the end of the day because she couldn't remember Emma ever taking the time to let herself rest like this before.

"I've been trying to get her to go to bed for the night," Killian spoke up, tender affection clear as day in his soft tone, "but someone is stubborn."

Suddenly Snow understood the source of Emma's sudden self-care. She gave the former pirate another grateful smile, which he returned.

Emma wrinkled her nose. "I told you why I don't want to go to bed for the night."

"Because you don't want to wake up at early-thirty," Killian sighed. Clearly this was a discussion they'd had at least once before. "I still imagine the oblivion of sleep now would be worth waking with the sun later."

"That's because you always wake up with the sun," Emma retorted, hiding a smile. "The sun gets up a good three hours before I like to."

"Aye, love, we all know."

Emma let out an actual, "Hmph." Snow had to bite her lip to keep from snickering.

"Even still," Snow said once she was no longer in danger of laughing out loud, "we should probably discuss sleeping arrangements. I gather you settled in here because this room is the darkest."

Killian nodded as Emma gave a soft, "Yeah."

And with one look at her baby girl's pain-filled face, Snow made her decision. "Then I think it's best if you stay right where you are tonight."

As expected, Emma argued. "I can't kick you out of your room–"

"You're not kicking us out if we offer," Snow told her gently. "If you're comfortable in here, there's no sense in moving you."

Charming ducked back into the room then, a glass of water in one hand and the other closed around another dose of painkillers for his little girl. "We can take your bed for the night," he agreed, easing back down beside Emma. He pressed two extra-strength Tylenol into her palm, which forced her to sit up as much as she could in preparation for taking the medicine.

"Besides," Snow added, helping her baby sit, "if you've been throwing up, you're not going to want to have to run down those stairs to get to the bathroom."

Emma swallowed the pills down with a gulp of water. She handed the glass back to her father before addressing her mother's point. "I only threw up once."

"But it wasn't that long ago, love," Killian reminded her.

Snow's stubborn baby girl wrinkled her nose but conceded that point to her pirate. The war clearly wasn't over, though, because her unsteady gaze finally locked on her baby brother. "What about Neal?"

"What about him?" Charming asked.

"If I sleep in your room. This is his room, too, remember."

"We'll bring him up to your room for the night with us."

"So now I'm displacing the squirt, too."

The words cut through Snow's heart like a dull knife. Her poor sweet little girl, always assuming she was a burden because that was how she'd been made to feel her entire life. A little girl was who never really seen, never really heard. A little girl who had only wanted what every child wanted and deserved: to be loved. Instead, she'd been tossed aside and overlooked, and oh, how it gutted Snow every single second of every single day to think of her little baby growing up in this world unloved, unnoticed.

She swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat and gripped her daughter's hand. "Emma, listen to me." She waited for Emma's pained gaze to focus on her before continuing. "You are not displacing any of us. You're sick and you need to be comfortable. You need to rest. If this is where you're comfortable, then you need this room more than we do tonight. We are more than happy to let you stay here so you can get better."

The dim ambient light in the room made it hard to tell for certain but Snow thought she saw Emma's eyes glisten. It once again hit her that prior to Emma's arrival in Storybrooke, she'd never had any of this. She'd never had people who took care of her. She'd never had people who put her first, who gave up their own beds for the night so she could rest and recuperate.

She'd never been cared for. She'd never been nurtured. She'd never been cherished for the absolutely wonderful, amazing person she was.

The realization made Snow's heart ache probably just as much as Emma's head was.

"Okay," Emma murmured in acquiescence, drawing Snow from her reverie.

Snow, David, and Killian all shared a surprised look. It appeared as if they'd won the war of the wills with Emma after all. "Okay," Snow repeated as she squeezed her daughter's hand. "Now for the next question. Is there anything we can do to help you?"

"You're already doing it," Emma assured her, squeezing her hand back.

The broken pieces of Snow's heart gathered themselves together. She glanced over at Charming, whose own eyes were glistening now, too. Their little girl was allowing them to help her, to take care of her. She was allowing them to help heal some of those emotional wounds along with tending to her migraine.

And they were helping. They were helping their baby girl just by being there for her, and it felt _wonderful_.

"Is there anything you need?" Charming asked. "More water?" He looked down and spotted the damp cloth laying on the nightstand. "I could refresh the compress."

"No, I don't need anything like that. Just ..." Emma closed her eyes, as if gathering her courage. And when she spoke, she sounded much more like the lonely little girl she'd once been than the independent adult she was now. "Can you guys just stay with me for a little while?"

A touched Snow smiled at her baby girl. Very rarely did she admit to needing their presence but her excruciating headache must have been making her throw caution to the wind. "Of course, sweetheart. While we're here, though, you should try to sleep. It'll help."

Emma sighed. "I really don't think sleep is going to happen."

Before Snow or Charming even had the chance to argue, Killian said, "Well, then, why don't we tell you stories to pass the time, love? All three of us. I know I have plenty of stories in my repertoire and I imagine it's the same for your parents."

He gave both Snow and Charming a pointed look as he said it, and Snow understood in an instant. He was hoping that their soft voices telling rambling stories of a faraway land would lull her to sleep.

Emma seemed to mull it over and eventually said, "Yeah, why not? We're going to need to do something besides awkwardly sitting here and staring at each other."

Snow hid a smirk. Only Emma.


	5. Chapter 5

Charming watched with a father's concerned eye as Emma slowly pushed herself up until she was half sitting, half slumped back into the pillows piled up behind her. "So, who's going to tell the first story?" she asked, sounding very much like a little girl who had stayed up way past her bedtime.

Before any of them could even suggest drawing straws or something to decide just that, little Neal began to fuss in Killian's arms. The expression of utter confusion on the pirate's face struck Charming as comical. "Oi, lad," Killian said, a tinge of perplexed betrayal in his tone, "what happened? You were calm as can be a moment ago."

The baby's whimpering must have been tearing through Emma's headache because she let out a soft whimper of her own. "I'll take him," Snow said softly after wincing at the pain on her little girl's face. "He probably needs to be changed."

She slipped the baby from Killian's arms and immediately set about trying to quiet him so his cries wouldn't bother his sister. "It's all right, Neal," she murmured, gently bouncing the infant in her arms as she gathered a diaper and the container of wipes. "It's all right."

With Killian's arms free, Emma apparently saw her opportunity. As quickly as she dared, she shifted position to curl up against her pirate, her arm across his stomach and her head on his chest. Killian happily accepted the cuddle and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Then he slouched a tad so Emma could rest a little more comfortably against him.

The overprotective-dad part of Charming still flared in minor annoyance but the vast majority of him could not have been happier at the sight of his little girl snuggled up with her True Love. The simple contact between them seemed as if it was already making her feel better. Some of the tension had fled from her features, at any rate.

Snow, it seemed, was just as happy for their baby girl. She exchanged a loving smile with Charming before ducking out of the room to change their baby boy's diaper and get him ready for bed.

"Still waiting on a story, here, guys," Emma murmured, her lids already slipping to half-mast.

Former prince and former pirate shared an amused grin. Something told both of them that Emma wouldn't last very long into whatever story they told her. Which, as far as Charming was concerned, was a good thing. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, poor Emma needed to sleep.

"I'll go first," Charming said as he placed a gentle hand on his daughter's knee. She smiled at him.

As was typical of Charming's storytelling fare, he began weaving yet another tale about Lulabelle, his favorite sheep when he was a boy. The lamb had been born premature and his mother had had to bring her into the house to care for her until she was strong enough to join the rest of the flock. Charming had been very young himself at the time, and he and Lulabelle had become fast friends. He'd always considered her a pet rather than a simple farm animal.

Emma believed his Lulabelle stories were if not completely made up then at least grossly exaggerated. (And sometimes, Charming had to admit, they were.) As such, she rolled her eyes at every single one he tried to tell her. Today was no exception. "More Lulabelle?" she asked, her tone verging on a whine.

"Yes indeed," Charming smiled. Despite her constant complaints, it was no secret to anyone who saw the loving smile on her lips or the sparkle in her eyes that she loved hearing about the playful little sheep. In light of this, Charming told her Lulabelle stories every chance he got. "Now shush and let me tell the story."

True to Killian's original plan, Charming took his time setting the stage, as it were. In excruciating detail, he described the layout of the little farmhouse he lived in with his mother. He told them about the fresh, clean air surrounding their farm and the comforting way it smelled. He described the chores he had to do each morning, first and foremost of which was letting the sheep out of their pen so they could graze in the fields.

All the while, Emma tried desperately to keep her eyes open. She rallied for a few minutes but the combination of the headache, the rambling story, Killian's thumb running up and down her upper arm, and her father's soft, soothing voice proved to be too much for her. Her eyes fluttered closed just as Snow returned to the room with a content little Neal.

She silently nestled Neal in his crib. It was his bedtime, after all, and Charming figured she wanted to take advantage of story time and let their voices put both of their children to sleep. Snow reclaimed her spot at the foot of the bed just as Charming started the story in earnest. "I went to let the sheep out of the pen and Lulabelle was nowhere to be found. I searched everywhere for her … the fields, the barn, anywhere she could possibly have found a hiding place. She was still a relative baby and she was a lot smaller than the rest of the sheep so she had a tendency to kind of get lost in the shuffle. But make no mistake, that morning the lamb was just … gone. I eventually found her in the kitchen with her face in the cherry pie my mother had just taken out of the oven."

"Sounds like my kind of sheep," Killian broke in, a smirk tugging at his lips.

A tiny smile from Emma was the only indication she'd even heard Killian's joke. Charming met Snow's eyes and grinned; it wouldn't be long now before she was fast asleep. "Now," Charming continued, "imagine a little boy trying to drag a stubborn sheep whose mouth was covered in cherries out of the kitchen before his mother finds out."

Snow swallowed a snicker. "And what exactly were you planning on doing about the pie? Even if you were able to get Lulabelle out of the kitchen before your mother saw her, the pie was still ruined."

Charming gave a sheepish half-shrug. "I was nine years old. My immediate problem was getting the sheep out of the kitchen and patching the hole in the pen that she had squeezed through in the first place. I hadn't exactly given thought to the pie."

Snow and Killian both chuckled. Emma remained still except for her shoulder rising and falling in time with her soft, even breaths. "Is she out?" Snow whispered to the pirate.

"Aye, mostly," Killian replied, his voice the same soft whisper as Snow's.

A tender look passed between husband and wife. Their little girl just needed one last little push and then she'd be sound asleep. One more story ought to do it.

Snow smiled to let her husband know she was picking up the story gauntlet. "Sounds like a spot of trouble I once got into." Her voice was just as soft and just as gentle has Charming's had been. "I was very young when I discovered I could communicate with birds so, like all small children, I played with this little ability of mine. After my parents put me to bed each night, I would call the birds into my room. We didn't do much, just chatted, but it seemed so disobedient of me at the time. I was meant to be sleeping, not making feathered friends. Still, each and every night, I would call them to my room. I'd talk to them about everything under the sun and they would stay until I finally talked myself to sleep."

Charming felt a smile tugging at his lips. The thought of a tiny Snow lying in a big princess-y bed surrounded by birds was more precious than words could describe. And as he glanced over at his daughter, eyes closed and breathing even, he couldn't help but picture her as a tiny child in a big princess-y bed, one his poor little girl never had the pleasure of making her own.

Clearly able to determine the path his thoughts had taken, Snow grasped his hand and squeezed. The touch gave him comfort and he squeezed back. "One night," she continued without missing a beat, "I must have been inadvertently calling the birds in my sleep because when I woke in the morning, my bedchamber was positively filled with them. There were so many, more than I could possibly count. Now, I wasn't frightened of them. I knew they meant me no harm. But do you know how much havoc the castle would have been thrown into if anyone had found the young princess's bedchamber teeming with flock upon flock of birds?"

Killian and Charming both chuckled. "I can't even imagine," Charming said.

"What did you do?" the pirate asked.

"After taking a moment to, you know, panic, I finally realized that if I had called them to me, I could make them go away by simply asking them to do so. I told them I appreciated them staying with me all night but they needed to leave before I got in trouble. You've never seen birds move so fast! I can only imagine what it looked like from the outside, all these birds flying out a bedchamber window all at once. Thank goodness no one happened to be approaching the castle that early in the morning."

All three of them shared a soft chuckle. A sheepish Killian then glanced down to make sure his laughter hadn't disturbed Emma.

It hadn't. She was even snoring lightly, mostly due to her positioning. "I'm sure she's comfortable in your arms," Snow murmured to Killian, "but it'll be better for her headache if she lies flat on her pillows. Do you think you can try moving her?"

A touched smile on his lips, Killian gave a nod. "This isn't the first time I've doubled as her pillow. She misses half the moving picture every so often when we watch the Netflix."

Something about the implied casual intimacy touched Charming's heart. He remembered the Emma Swan who first arrived in Storybrooke, the one who never got too close. Seeing her now, so affectionate, so loving, so _comfortable_ with physical contact … he couldn't be prouder of her. She'd come such a long way from the woman she was, a woman who hid behind walls and guards as a way to protect herself from the world.

Those guards were long gone, and the real Emma Swan had emerged from the cocoon she'd fashioned for herself. Charming's heart soared with fatherly pride and sheer adoration every time he looked at his baby girl and realized what an amazing, wonderful, strong woman she'd become.

Very slowly but with expert ease, Killian shifted Emma over to the other side of the bed. As soon as her head touched the pillow, she unconsciously took over and made herself comfortable on her side facing Killian. She tucked her hands under the pillows as Snow spread a blanket over her to keep her warm while she slept.

Killian brushed his thumb along Emma's forehead as a good night gesture before pushing himself off the bed. Emma didn't stir, and Snow and Charming felt safe enough now in the knowledge that their little girl was fully asleep to get up as well.

"Sleep tight, baby," Snow whispered as she dropped a kiss on her little girl's cheek. "We'll be back to check on you in a little bit." Then she stepped away so Charming could say his own good nights.

He adjusted the blanket around his baby girl's shoulders before gently pressing a kiss to the side of her head. "I hope you feel better when you wake up."

As the three of them tiptoed from the room, they all peeked in on little Neal in his crib. Sure enough, he was as sound asleep as his sister. "Looks like both of our kids appreciate the magic of bedtime stories," Charming quipped.

Snow gave him a smile, tenderness and love shining in her eyes.

Only after exiting the bedroom did prince, princess, and pirate realize that they now had some time to kill and no real plan for the evening. Killian clearly didn't want to leave until he knew Emma was feeling better. To his surprise, Charming found that he didn't want the pirate to go. "So … now what?" Killian asked somewhat sheepishly.

Crickets. Now what indeed.

Before the silence had the chance to become awkward, Snow said, "I could make cocoa."

Killian and Charming shared a relieved smile. "Splash a little rum in it," the pirate said, "and you've got yourself a deal."


	6. Chapter 6

Emma first became aware of the dull throbbing in her left temple. As she let out a soft groan, she lifted a weary hand to the side of her head, pressed her index finger into her temple, and gave it a brief but vigorous rub. Maybe that would calm the throbbing enough for her to go back to sleep. She wanted nothing more than to let the descending exhaustion drag her back to oblivion.

Apparently attempting to sleep off the headache had been a wonderful idea after all. At least she'd been able to avoid the pain for a little while.

Not that she was planning on telling Killian or her parents as much. The last thing she needed right now was an I told you so.

Just as she was drifting off, a calloused thumb began gently tracing soft lines along her forehead. Despite the exhaustion still weighing down on her and despite the throbbing pain, a smile tugged at her lips. She'd know that touch anywhere.

Emma forced her eyes open and sure enough there her pirate sat on the empty side of her parents' bed. "Hello, love," he murmured, a sheepish smile on his face. "You were restless and I was simply trying to calm you. Apologies if I woke you."

"You didn't," she assured him. Relief lit his features and an exhausted Emma let her eyes fall closed again.

For a long moment, Emma drifted in that fuzzy world between asleep and awake. Killian continued the soft massage of her forehead, which helped her float further and further away from consciousness. The headache nagged at her, though, and the dull pain eventually brought her back to wakefulness. Letting out a soft sigh, she once again forced her eyes open. "What time is it?"

"Half past nine."

She blinked at him. She'd slept almost two hours.

"How are you feeling?"

"A little bit better," she answered honestly. "My brain doesn't feel like it's trying to claw its way out of my skull anymore, anyway. Now it just feels like it's too big for my skull."

He frowned at her. "That doesn't sound better."

"Trust me, it is."

"But the headache isn't gone completely?"

"Nope. It's stubbornly hanging on, refusing to give up the fight."

"Sounds like someone I know," Killian gently teased.

Her pirate certainly was cheeky, wasn't he? Emma smirked at him before slowly pushing herself into a sitting position. Her headache briefly intensified with the position change, causing her to flinch and squeeze her eyes shut in an attempt to quell the pain.

In an instant, she felt Killian's hand slide onto her shoulder, steadying her. "You all right, love?"

Emma winced again, this time at the concern in his tone. "I'm fine," she assured him as she forced her eyes open. At some point, someone must have covered her with a blanket because it lay rumpled over her legs. "But I have been lying down too long. I need to get up and _do_ something."

From the hesitant expression on her pirate's face, it was clear that he wanted to insist she remain in bed. She shot him a challenging look that all but dared him to argue with her. Thankfully he seemed to realize that arguing was futile.

It was only after she pushed herself to her feet that it clicked in her aching brain. She'd slept away the last two hours. Killian had clearly stayed the whole time, which meant, what, he'd been sharing quality time with her parents? "What have you and my parents been doing all this time?"

A sheepish grin tugged at Killian's lips as he scratched behind his ear. "Would you believe me if I told you that we've been drinking spiked cocoa and playing cards?"

Her eyebrows shot to the ceiling. "You've been corrupting my parents?"

"I'm wounded! Your parents hardly need my help, Swan. Your mother's practically a card shark. We're using my doubloons for bets and thank the heavens we're not playing for keeps."

Now a grin pulled at her lips. Her mom, a card shark? Since Henry had been present for all of their family game time, she'd only ever played child-friendly card games with her mom. "This I gotta see."

Killian chuckled, a soft sound that made Emma's heart flutter. She adored his laugh. Frankly, she didn't hear it enough.

Though Emma insisted it was unnecessary, Killian just as insistently wrapped his arm around her shoulders to steady her as she stepped away from the bed. He was totally being overprotective but she couldn't say she minded the contact. The reason for the contact, maybe, but not the contact in and of itself. She was always up for a pirate snuggle.

They checked on baby Neal, who was still sleeping peacefully, before ducking through the curtain. Sure enough, her parents were sitting at the kitchen table, cocoa mugs in front of them and Killian's flask on the table between them. There was also a mug in front of what Emma assumed was the chair Killian had been sitting in before he got up to check on her. David and Snow were in the middle of a hand of what looked to Emma like blackjack.

"Who's winning?" Emma asked, though the question wasn't at all necessary. Her mother's pile of doubloons dwarfed both Killian's and David's.

Snow and David both looked up, somewhat startled. Emma could see faint evidence of the spiked cocoa in the sparkle in their eyes and the flush of their cheeks. They weren't drunk but they definitely had a little buzz going.

Now back on parent duty, however, they seemed to sober instantly. "Hey, baby," Snow said as she pushed herself up from her seat and approached her sick little girl. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," Emma said, forcing a smile. Snow shot her a mother's cut-the-shit look, to which Emma heaved a sigh. "All right, sort of better. The headache's gone down a little bit, anyway."

"That's good." Snow smiled and brushed a gentle thumb down her baby girl's cheek. "I'm glad the nap helped a bit."

Though it was just as unnecessary as when Killian walked her out of the bedroom, her mom and her pirate both walked her over to the table and sat her down in one of the empty seats. And as if she didn't have enough overprotection in her life at the moment, her father wasted not a moment in getting in on it, too. "Hey, kiddo. Are you hungry or thirsty at all? I can make you something."

Though she was actually a little hungry, she wrinkled her nose at the thought of putting anything into her stomach. What she'd put in her stomach during dinner hadn't stayed there very long and she was not at all up for a repeat performance.

A look of sudden understanding crossed David's face. "We could start with toast," he offered.

Something about his impossibly gentle tone made the lonely little girl who still resided within Emma leap for joy. She shot her father a touched smile. "Yeah, I think that could work."

"Good," David said as he pushed himself to his feet. "I'll be right back, sweetheart."

While David had been trying to get her to agree to eat, Snow apparently had been taking care of her beverage. No sooner had David walked away than Snow set a steaming mug of cocoa in front of her. "Slow sips, all right?"

Though Emma would have preferred to start with water, she couldn't deny how wonderful the cocoa felt as it warmed her all the way down to her stomach. It was so wonderful, in fact, that she had to force herself to take those small sips as instructed. "This is great, thanks."

When it was clear that the cocoa wasn't going to send her running into the bathroom, both Killian and Snow finally joined her at the table. They sat in comfortable silence while waiting for her toast, which David brought over in short order. He'd left the slice unbuttered just in case the fat was too much for her stomach but he did bring the butter over to the table for her. It was common knowledge in the Charming household that Emma didn't eat dry toast if she could help it. "Here you go, kiddo."

"Thanks, Dad."

Emma took a couple of small nibbles of toast, swallowed, and waited for her stomach to rebel. When a few moments passed and all remained quiet on the stomach front, she buttered her toast and began eating in earnest. "How was your dinner?" she asked her parents in between bites.

"It was absolutely lovely," Snow smiled. "The food was great and we had a nice time together. Thank you for babysitting tonight."

"You're welcome, although I can't stay that I did a lot of babysitting tonight. Killian ended up having to babysit Neal _and_ me."

"It was no trouble at all, love," Killian assured her.

After giving her wonderful pirate a grateful smile, Emma returned her attention to her parents. "Anyway, now that I'm awake, you two can have your room back."

"Nonsense, Emma," David said as he reached across the table to lay his hand over hers. "I'm glad you're feeling a little bit better but you're all set up in there. We can still take your room for the night so you can be comfortable. You should be closer to the bathroom anyway, even if all you need to do is grab some more medicine."

Taking over their bedroom for the night wasn't at all necessary. It hadn't even been necessary when Emma's headache was in full bloom. The gesture was appreciated, of course, but not necessary. Something told her, though, that her parents were not about to take no for an answer. "All right, fine," she shrugged. "Suit yourselves."

Her parents and pirate cleaned up the blackjack game while she finished her toast and cocoa. They didn't even bother counting out their winnings since Snow was clearly miles ahead of Killian and David. When Emma finally pushed her empty plate and mug away, Snow grabbed them both and set them in the sink to wash later.

Emma raised her eyebrows; Snow White never let a mess sit.

The food in Emma's belly was most certainly welcome but sitting in the comparatively bright light of the kitchen area had caused her headache to worsen a tetch. The added pain must have been enough to show on her face because Killian gently said, "You look like you need to lie down again, love."

"Not yet," she insisted. If she went back into the darkened bedroom right now, she wouldn't be able to keep herself awake. And though Emma knew she needed the sleep, she was still wary of waking up completely rested before the first light of dawn.

Getting up with the sun was Killian's territory, not hers.

In response to Emma's worsening headache, Snow snapped off the range light and doused half of the overhead lights. "Thanks, Mom," Emma said, smiling in relief.

"You're welcome, baby." Then, to Emma's surprise, Snow held out her hand. A confused Emma took it and allowed Snow to gently tug her to her feet.

Her mom walked over to the couch and then sat and settled a throw pillow in her lap. "What're you–"

"Shh, just lie down."

"If I go to sleep now, I'm going to wake up at early-thirty tomorrow and then I'll just be cranky all day."

Behind her, David and Killian stifled snickers. Snow tried to no avail to hide an amused smile of her own. They'd all been on the receiving end of a tired and cranky Emma more than once. "I know. I just want to try something."

Okay, why was her mom being so cryptic? Probably just to pique her daughter's curiosity, and if so, it worked. Emma heaved a sigh but she did indeed lie down and rest her head on the pillow on her mother's lap.

Before Emma had the time to even remotely feel awkward, Snow gently pressed her fingertips into Emma's temples. The pounding pressure in Emma's head eased enough that she let out a soft sigh. And when Snow began massaging Emma's temples with a tight, circular motion, it felt like heaven. "Ohh, that feels _amazing_ ," Emma murmured, her eyes fluttering closed in sweet relief.

When she opened her eyes again, she found that David and Killian had eased down in the arm chairs, offering her comfort in their presence. All three of them were taking care of her, in any way they could. And the lonely little girl inside Emma, the one who'd never had any of this, was thrilled to pieces.

This was how it should have been and it still floored Emma that she had it now. "I love you," she whispered to all three of them.

"We love you, too, kiddo," David whispered back. And then, because he knew how Emma felt about _moments_ , even ones she initiated, he teasingly added, "This message will self-destruct in five seconds."

Everyone snickered. "That's supposed to be for _written_ things you don't want other people knowing, Dad," an amused Emma informed him, rolling her eyes.

Her dad smiled at her. "My mistake."


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** We've come to another end. Thank you all so much for the follows and favorites and your absolutely lovely reviews. Y'all are still the best readers ever! I hope you've enjoyed this story ... it was a fun one for me to write. :)

* * *

Snow White was one hundred percent convinced that if she looked up the word "stubborn" in the dictionary, her daughter's picture would be printed in place of a definition. Her baby girl had quite the obstinate streak in her and, as her entire family had discovered, that obstinate streak only got worse when she wasn't feeling well.

Which sometimes made caring for her an exercise in patience. Tonight was one of those times.

"You should get back to bed, kiddo," Charming gently suggested when he noticed that Snow's temple massage was putting Emma to sleep.

"Don't need to," their stubborn daughter insisted as she forced herself to sit up, which broke her mother's contact with her temples.

Charming sent a half-helpless, half-annoyed glance Snow's way. Snow simply shrugged in response. After all, she and Charming only had themselves to blame for their baby girl's bullheaded tendencies. They may not have raised her but she was still their daughter and their own stubbornness flowed through her veins.

 _On the other hand_ , Snow thought, _we could at least give it the old college try._

"You know, I think you're worrying over nothing, Emma," she said as she brushed a lock of Emma's hair behind her ear. "I know you think you're going to wake up fully rested before the sun even peeks over the horizon but I really don't think you will. You're sick and you need the rest. Yes, you might wake up a little earlier than normal but a couple hours earlier than normal is pushing it."

"Still not taking the chance," Emma replied, much to her parents' and pirate's dismay.

And that was that. It wasn't like continuing to argue with her was going to do any good. Emma Swan could certainly dig her heels in when she wanted and tonight, she apparently wanted.

So Snow decided to be sneaky. Instead of arguing, she conceded the point to her daughter. "Okay, fine, you don't have to go back to bed but at least lie back down out here," she said gently. "I can tell that sitting up isn't helping your headache any."

Emma spent a moment staring her down before the headache eventually won out. She let out an annoyed huff, curled up on her side, and rested her head back on the pillow still nestled on Snow's lap. After a beat, she also stretched her feet out to rest on the coffee table.

Since Emma was indeed acquiescing to her mother's suggestion, albeit huffily, Snow couldn't find it within herself to chide her for putting her feet on the furniture.

Charming and Killian both raised their eyebrows in surprise at Snow when Emma settled back down without putting up a fight. Snow simply gave them both a wink in return to let them know she had something up her sleeve.

Like the good prince and pirate they were, Charming and Killian did not reveal a single thing. They simply launched into something of a tall tale contest to help pass the time. Since Emma was convinced half of Charming's stories were made-up and she knew a great many of Killian's were, it seemed a natural choice. "You guys are ridiculous," Emma said, a smile pulling her lips.

"And we're going to tell ridiculous stories," Charming teased.

"Now, mate, the trick in telling the perfect tall tale is to make it so that it's just this side of reality," Killian said. "Something that has just that tiny bit of heightened reality so that it could have happened but actually didn't."

"He's right, Dad," Emma added.

"Oh, really? Well, let's hear one of these perfect tall tales of yours."

Killian grinned. "All right. I shall tell you about the time I learned the hard way exactly why pirates draw treasure maps."

While Killian spun the story of the (clearly nonexistent) night he and his crew had gotten blind drunk in a tavern and decided they needed to bury various bits of treasure stowed on the _Jolly Roger_ , Snow ran her fingers through Emma's hair and hummed softly. Snuggle time with her baby girl was not something that happened very often and Snow had decided to take advantage of the opportunity.

This was also where being sneaky came in.

After a few minutes, Snow looked down and sure enough poor Emma trying valiantly to keep her eyes open. The rhythmic motion of Snow's fingers combing through her hair, the soft humming, and Killian's steady voice all were working against her.

Father, mother, and pirate all shared a conspiratorial grin.

Another minute or so later, Emma finally gave in and let her eyes close. By the time Killian finished his story, the point of which being the reason pirates drew treasure maps was so they knew where their drunk selves buried said treasure, she was completely out.

"Well done, Snow, but you do know we have to wake her up again to get her to bed, right?" Charming pointed out.

"I'm perfectly aware," Snow replied, smiling at her husband, "but we can let her sleep for a while here. Then hopefully when we wake her to get her to bed, she won't wake up completely."

"I'll have to remember that trick," Killian said with a smirk.

"Let's just see if it works first," Snow chuckled.

She kept her eye on the clock; timing was going to be a tricky thing. If she let Emma fall into too deep a slumber, she might not be able to rouse her enough to move. When twenty minutes passed, she removed her fingers from her daughter's hair and gently shook her shoulder instead. "Come on, baby," she said when Emma dragged her eyes open, "I think it's bedtime."

"I'm awake," Emma protested in a voice that said the complete opposite.

"You were practically snoring," Charming teased.

A mildly offended huff was the only argument Emma offered. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, looking for the briefest of moments like a small child just awakening from a nap. Snow's heart skipped a beat and she couldn't resist cupping her sleepy girl's chin in her palm.

Charming and Killian took that as their cue to shift both baby Neal and his crib upstairs for the night. "I really don't have to take your room tonight, you know," Emma mumbled as Snow helped maneuver her off the couch.

"Trust me, sweetheart, Neal's a lot easier to get up those stairs right now than you would be." Considering Snow was supporting much of a half-asleep Emma's weight, that was an understatement.

Emma sighed but was clearly too exhausted to protest any further.

The women reached the bedroom just as Killian vacated it with little Neal in his arms. One of the guys had already turned down the bed for Emma and when Snow sat her down on the edge of the mattress, she didn't waste a moment in getting herself settled under the covers.

Snow smiled as she adjusted the comforter around Emma's shoulders. "There we go, baby. Hopefully when you wake up the morning, your headache will be just a bad memory."

"I hope so, too," Emma replied, her eyes already drifting closed.

The guys returned then, each eager to say his own good nights. Emma forced her eyes back open when she heard them enter the room. "Now, if you need anything," Charming said gently as a took a seat on the edge of the mattress by her knees, "your mother and I will be right upstairs."

"And I'll be right here," Killian added with a glance at Charming. Snow's eyebrows quirked up in surprise when Charming gave him a nod of approval. "If you need anything at all, one of us will be more than happy to get it for you."

"Thanks, guys," Emma murmured. "For everything."

One by one, they gave her good night kisses. Snow and Charming forced themselves to leave their sick little girl's side only when it became obvious that she was slipping back into sleep. Killian settled himself beside Emma, pulled the blanket she'd been using previously over his legs, and bid them good night.

On the way up to the loft, Snow teasingly poked her husband's shoulder. "You're just letting him stay with her? No arguments, no threats, no putting the fear of God in him?"

"It's not like they need my permission, Snow," Charming sighed. "They _live_ together." Then his seemingly resigned expression shifted into a teasing smirk. "And besides, she's sick and already asleep. It's not like they could get up to much, anyway."

Snow swallowed a chuckle and shook her head. Fathers.

* * *

The morning sun was trying its damnedest to force Emma Swan to get up and start her day and she was not having it in the slightest. She turned onto her back with a whimper and flung her arm over her eyes to block the assault of sunlight. "Five more minutes," she muttered to no one in particular.

Her breath caught in her throat at the chuckle that came from beside her. She hesitantly removed her arm from her face and opened her eyes to a sleepy squint. Killian was sitting beside her, a book open in his lap and a highly amused grin on his lips. "Good morning, love."

"Mmm, morning." She turned on her side to face Killian and shut her eyes. "Not so sure about good, though. It's way too early for the sun to be that bright and in my face."

Killian chuckled again as he reached behind the bed to draw the shade down a bit. "Apologies for the sun being in your face, Swan, but it's hardly early. It's almost ten."

Wait, what?! Emma pushed herself into a sitting position, her mouth open in shock. "Ten in the morning?!"

"Aye."

She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept in until ten. And here she'd been afraid of waking up at oh-dark-hundred! She must have needed the sleep. Poor Killian, though! If he'd been sitting with her this whole time, he must have been going stir-crazy. He got up at oh-dark-hundred on the regular.

"How are you feeling, love?"

It wasn't until he asked that she realized the pain and pressure in her head had completely vanished overnight. "The headache's gone," she assured him, smiling. "And I know I slept basically the last fifteen or so hours but I'm still a little tired and out of it. That's normal for the day after a migraine, though."

"Aye. Milah used to call it her headache hangover."

Emma smiled. That was the absolute perfect descriptor for it. She was getting ready to say as much when her stomach rumbled loudly enough for Killian to hear, reminding them both that she really hadn't eaten since lunch the day before. A dinner that didn't stay with her and a slice of toast did not a hearty, filling meal make. "And apparently I'm hungry," she added sheepishly.

Killian chuckled and set his book aside. "Your parents have both been in to check on you and they said they'd make breakfast for you when you awoke." He paused and then smirked. "Although at this point, they might want to consider just making you lunch."

"You're a riot," Emma said, though she couldn't hide the touched smile that pulled at her lips, both at the thought of her parents peeking in on her and at the prospect of one of her parents' famous home-cooked breakfasts. Nobody told Granny this but Snow and David could give her a run for her money when it came to pancakes, omelets, and home fries.

Her stomach growling a second time finally forced Emma out of bed. Killian slung his arm around her shoulders and walked her out to the kitchen.

"Look who's decided to join us in the land of the living," David teased when they emerged from the bedroom.

A blush crept up Emma's cheeks. "G'morning."

"Good morning, baby," Snow said, shifting a wide awake and perfectly content little Neal in her arms. "How are you feeling?"

"Better."

"You look much better," Snow agreed. "You're not as pale and your face isn't all scrunched up in pain." She glanced over her shoulder at David, who smiled at her.

"You can say it, you know," Emma sighed.

"Say what?" David asked with mock innocence.

"I told you so. You guys kept trying to get me to go to bed but I was being me and refused. You were right, though, because clearly I needed the rest."

The three of them exchanged a smile. "We're just happy you're feeling better, kiddo," David said gently, turning that smile on his daughter. "No I told you sos necessary."

She smiled back.

"Now sit," he instructed. "You, my darling daughter, are getting your favorite breakfast this morning."

Emma grinned. That meant chocolate chip pancakes and bacon.

She and Killian took seats at the kitchen island. Snow transferred baby Neal into Killian's arms so she could attack the pancakes while David handled the bacon. And as Emma looked from her pirate smiling down at her baby brother to her mom and dad working at the stove, warmth and light and joy and sweet love filled her heart.

She was once a little girl who didn't matter. She was once a little girl who didn't think she ever would. But now … now she had parents who loved her more than anything and took care of her in every possible way. Now she had a wonderful kid who believed in her wholeheartedly and loved her with every fiber of his being. Now she had a baby brother who looked at her with all the love in the world in his big blue eyes. And now she had a pirate True Love who had been sent back to her by the gods and who built her up and lowered her walls and who'd brought so much light into her life.

The little girl who didn't matter and didn't think she ever would was all in the past. Because now Emma knew she mattered and knew she always did. Quite frankly, with all the love she had in her life now, she felt like the luckiest girl in all the realms.


End file.
